


History repeats itself

by Clockwork



Series: Love to Hate [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Early canon, M/M, NSFW, No Beta, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Smut, Twisted History, doc/robert svane hints, dom doc, face fucking, robert svane shining through, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 16:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: Doc gets his way out of the well and seeks a little release before getting on with his life.





	History repeats itself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jemisard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/gifts).



“Uhmmmm, Boss?” 

The words, hesitant as they were, came with a soft rapping on the door of the trailer. Laid back on the bed, booted feet propped up against the wall and his coat hanging over a chair nearby, Bobo had left explicit instructions he was not to be disturbed. The book was new, his laced coffee was hot, and the last thing he needed was a grating, irritating voice breaking through his reverie. 

Licking the tip of one finger, he flips the page, going on to the next. The knocking comes again.

“If you do not disappear in the next five seconds, we’re going to have a border party. One…”

“Someone’s here to see you, Boss. Asked for you by name.”

“Two…”

“They asked for Robert, but I figure they meant you given who it is.”

“Th…” The word died on his tongue. No one, no one ever, asked for him by that name. Who would even dare? 

Setting aside the book, and ignoring the still steaming cup of whiskey laced coffee, Bobo stood and slowly drew on the long fur coat he wore. It was like armor for battle, and if someone was asking for him by that name, then a battle there was likely to be. 

Open the door, he stayed there, framed by the darkness behind him and staring down at the revenant before him, eyes narrowed and his hand gripping the frame tightly enough for it to squeak. 

“And just who asked for Robert?” Not me. Not himself. Asked to speak to a man that no longer existed. 

“Ummmm, well…” Backing up a step, the revenant glanced back over their shoulder and then up at Bobo. “It’s Doc?”

Bobo moved with a sudden speed, coming down the stairs and shoving the other revenant back against the rough bark of a tree. His eyes flared red, dark and deep and burning. 

“What did you say?” Even his voice was dark, an inhuman snarl, demanding and promising violence. 

“It’s… It’s…”

“The name’s Doc Holliday and you, Robert, of all people know it well enough.”

The drawl was familiar even after all this time. One that has infuriated Bobo since long before he died for the sake of others. Familiar enough to cause his gut to screw up, tightening into a knot that few were able to cause him. Not even the voice of the living Earp set his nerves on end like hearing that voice for the first time in over a hundred years. For the first time since Robert left him in the bottom of a well with a ring, unable to die and with no way out.

“The name’s Bobo and no one said you were welcome,” he pointed out, head cocking to one side as he slowly turned away from his intended target to fully face the new one. He stepped closer to him, pointing at Doc and shaking a finger at him. “How did you manage to find your way out of that single room apartment of yours? I didn’t think anyone even knew where that well was.”

“You know what else was in that well, Robert? Peacemaker. Now stop shaking a finger at me. What is this? What happened to me? What… happened…” He gaped at Doc, just stunned. Even if he had spent a century in a well, how could he act like this? Pretend like Bobo hasn’t a reason for any of this and that he is the one that belongs here? With them? In Bobo’s space?

“What happened to me? What… You and Wyatt are what happened to me, Holliday. What do you think becomes of a good man cursed to Hell?” His head suddenly cocks the other way as if listening to things that no one else can hear. “Though maybe you do know, don’t you? Except that you were never a good man, Henry? Not one day in your life.”

Holliday rolled his eyes, lips pursing as his hands came to rest on his hips. Staring down Bobo as if nothing had changed and he was still that pompous, overdressed mouse of a man Robert Svane that had been so smitten with Wyatt that the entire town of Purgatory had known the truth. Mocked him for it behind his back and whispered about him to his face. 

“Are you really, after all this time still going to go there? Of all things? It was over a hundred years ago, Robert.”

Another hearing the conversation, knowing what Robert Svane had sacrificed for Purgatory might think Doc was being the horse’s ass he could be. Bobo knew better. He knew the were both on the same page because it was the same look that Henry had given him when Robert had brought it up any time after.

“There’s a lot of things that were over a hundred years ago,” Bobo said, moving closer once more, shoulders hunched and his head angled in such a way as to put him and Doc on the same level. “Up to and including that moustache.” Again he waggled his finger at the other man. “Now, why are you here?”

“Where the Hell else am I supposed to be?”  
Bobo straightens suddenly. Holliday jerks, not trusting a thing from a man driven mad from Hell. Bobo though just smiles, flinging his arms out wide and gesturing as he slowly turns in a circle. 

“Explore. There’s a big world out there, and you’ve seen none of it. Wait until you learn about cars, and cellphones.” The smile he gave was sharp and bitter and dark. “Course, if someone came for Peacemaker, I’m going to guess that means Ward’s Wayward Witchling but with a B has returned. Wonder if she can tell the difference between a spell and a curse.”

With the arrival of Doc Holliday to their tiny enclave, and someone else to draw Bobo’s ire, the other revenants have started to gather around them. Loosely, huddling in smaller groups, but all eyes on them.

Bobo could feel it but gave them no notice. Doc, on the other hand, wasn’t as comfortable. Especially not with the topics where this conversation seemed to be going.

“There somewhere else we can take this, Robert?”

Silence was like a bubble around them, the soft whispers and hisses of the other revenants like a distant rain. Not distinct voices but a gathering, like an impending storm, and Bobo rather liked how it set Holliday on edge. But if he’s going to keep using that name…

Bobo rolled his eyes, sweeping into a bow and gesturing with one silver ringed hand towards the door of the trailer. “After you, Henry.”

For a moment they were at a stand-off, both watching the other warily. Making a face, Doc turned his back on the revenants, on Bobo, and headed up the small flight of metal steps into the trailer. By the time Bobo followed him in, Doc already had his back to the cabinets, looking around with a wary eye.

“Bettin’ none of them come in here, do they?” His gaze falls on the book sitting still in the middle of the rumpled bed. “Yeah, nevermind. Sucker’s bet there.”

Bobo closed the door, carefully locking it. It was more the point of it than worrying it’s an issue for anyone in the room. Or outside of the trailer. 

“What is it you want, Holliday? You aren’t one of us, and this is not your place.”

“Somehow it’s yours, Robert?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? It’s your name, and no amount of pain and torture can entirely burn that out of a man.”

He moved quickly, not that there is much space to move, closing the gap between them and his hand taking Doc by the throat, fingers flexing.

“What would you know about the fires of Hell,” he snarled, face mere inches from Doc’s. “You stayed down there in your cushy little hole, wet and starving and yet your torment was your own mind. You know nothing of what I went through.”

“I know you are are a bitter man who left me in a hole to rot because things didn’t go your way.”

His fingers flexed again, tighter this time. “I left you in a hole to rot because you valued your immortality more than you did saving a man that sacrificed himself for this town.” He snarled, all sharp teeth and sharper words. Anger coursing through him and his cheeks flushing red.

“You left me in that well because you thought spreading your legs for me would get you into Wyatt’s good graces, Robert, and you punished me because he left you the first chance he got.” His voice squeaked from the pressure, not backing down.

Bobo shoved hard, slamming Doc’s head back against the cabinet, needing distance at the image those words conjured in his mind. Images of a night in a room over the saloon. Alcohol leaving him dizzy and sensitive to every touch, every word, that a man used to wooing any woman he wanted to his bed used those same wiles to cajole a shy, needy man out of his suit and into a bed with rough sheets and rougher games.

By morning his body had ached in ways he never could have imagined, his head was filled with debaucherous acts that left him still half hard and craving things he’d never let himself even imagine between two men. Laying in an empty bed, and speaking to a stable boy who told him that Holliday had summoned his horse at daybreak and was probably already halfway to the next town by the time Svane had limped down to the front of the Saloon. Ignoring the looks he got as he emerged from a house of ill repute at those hours, scuttling to his home as fast as he could. 

A long hot bath that he’d had them replace the water no less than four times helped with the ache and pain and the sensation of being full and held tight. Nothing though could help the ache in his jaw, the hollowness in the bottom of his gut, or the images that he couldn’t seem to erase from his mind. Not then. Not now after all that time in hell and a century on Earth.

“And you’re still thinking about it,” Holliday said, tones almost confused though there’s a hint of gloating in there. What a stroke to a man’s ego, especially when all he’s had is his memories for so long. “All this time, and you were the only one that knew I was down there. Left me there to rot while what?”

He pushed away from the cabinets, closing that gap between them. Even as Bobo backed up a step, he followed, pressing in close against the other man. Bobo was all anger and pain and bluster, but Doc knew the man that lay beneath the facade. 

“While you lay on that bed with it’s soft sheets and pretty quilt and what? Do you think about it, Robert? Think about all the things I did to you while you wailed and howled and begged?”

“Shut up.” Snarling the words, his lip curling as his hands balled into fists until the edges of his silver wings cut into his fingers. 

“Now now, Robert. Don’t be like that. You think I don’t remember the man you were? The one you still are?” Drawling out his name, slow and wicked as he leaned in closer. His cheek brushing against Bobo’s until his lips brushed against Bobo’s ear. “You’ve become such a mouthy little bitch, but do you think I don’t remember what that mouth can do to a man?”

The last words came out in a groan, a shiver running through Doc’s body. A shiver that echoed as it trembled along Bobo’s spine. 

“You’re playing at big bad here, Robert. All this fur and the silver and you’ve got them all shaking, afraid to cross you. How much are you missing? Missing a strong hand in that soft hair of yours. Missing a man who can put you right where you want to be. Can’t show them that, can you? Can’t show how needy you are, how much you need more than some deadly little revenant polishing your knob, can you?”

He moved suddenly, his hand sliding down the length of Bobo’s fly, feeling the hard press of flesh within. “So hard, Robert. Bet you’re only thinking about one thing, aren’t you?” He bit at the shell of Bobo’s ear, hard, groaning at the whimper it earned him. “Get on your knees, Robert. Open my pants and put that soft mouth to work.”

It’s a gamble, but Doc Holliday was a man known for taking chances. He’s in a demon trailer park, surrounded by Wyatt’s victims, and ordering their de facto leader to suck him off, and he’s hoping to walk out of here in one piece. That last one he’s not sure is guaranteed. 

Right until Bobo shifts, his hands catching either side of his coat and sweeping it back and up as he sinks to his knees. Bright eyes never leave Doc’s face, staring up at him with an intensity that he couldn’t show before, one hidden by closed eyes and a downturned face. The shame that possessed him in the past is gone, barely blinking as he undoes the buckle of Doc’s belt, then the buttons of his trousers. 

“Knew not even Hell could take that out of you,” he murmured, immediately running his fingers through Bobo’s hair, needing to take him apart piece by piece. “As I recall, for a man that claimed he was new to this, you had a way about you, Robert. Remind me what a good boy you are,” he groaned, hips rolling as Bobo’s fingers ran over him, drawing down denim and briefs, sliding them down to settle against Doc’s thighs.

Had anyone else referred to Bobo like that and he’d have taken them apart, piece by piece until they begged him to kill him. In that moment though, it’s not the revenant leader thinking, acting. It’s a man that had spent a lifetime mostly alone, aching for more, and finding only moments of physicality to try and fix an emptiness that ran much deeper.

And both knowing that this is not going to change any of that. Doc has never been a man given to bouts of emotions or the closeness it can bring. Always a man that’s been bad for thinking about himself first and others third or fourth. This is about the desires of a man that has been without the nearness of another human being for a century. The neediness of a man long dead, but who still lurks beneath the surface, waiting and wanting.

A neediness that is clear by the tight heat of his mouth around Doc’s dick, not even teasing as he takes enough to feel himself choking. Loving that sensation, the memory of a hope that he knows will nothing will become of. Yet that desire is there in the tight stroking of his hand, twisting against the base of Doc’s length as Bobo’s free hand moves to cup his balls.

His efforts earn him a groan, a long, throaty sound as Doc’s head fell back on his shoulders and he shifted, sliding his feet further apart until the pull of denim held him in place. 

“That’s it. Come on, Robert. Knew you hadn’t forgotten,” he murmured, speaking the words over and over again, low and rumbling to encourage more from the deadly revenant on his knees before him. 

It was a beautiful sight, eyes hooded as he looked down past sooty lashes, watching him. 

“Look up at me.” Waiting a moment and then repeating the words, rougher now. “Look at me, Robert. 

Encouraging him as Doc’s hips rolled, pushing himself deep into Bobo’s eager mouth. No longer leaving this to the other man, both hands sinking into the silken strands of his hair. Doc twisting his hands into those locks, using them to hold tight to Bobo as he began to move. 

Fucking into his mouth, moaning loudly as Doc stared into those soulful blue eyes, puppy dog eyes, not letting Bobo look away, barely letting him breathe as he took his pleasure without thought of returning the favor. 

 

Using that grip to hold Bobo tight, pulling back to shallowly rock himself against Bobo’s tongue as his foot taps the other man’s thigh. “Come on, Robert. I can’t imagine you don’t want to feel it,” he said, shifting his foot a bit more, grinding the toe of his boot against Bobo’s pants. “Probably fucking staining your damn trousers wanting it, aren’t you? Not yet though,” he murmured using his hold in Bobo’s hair to cant his head to one side. “Not yet.”

And with that he started fucking hard into his mouth once more, cruel, despite his taunting words, not caring what Bobo was getting from it. Just needing his own release… and to remind this arrogant bastard that left him to rot in a well just who he is messing with. 

He came suddenly, roughly, holding hard onto Bobo’s hair to keep him from jerking away at Doc’s low groan, the twitching of his dick against the revenant’s tongue. 

Pulling back, Doc tucked himself into his jeans, buttoning up the fly and then his belt. Bobo knelt still at his feet, head hanging now and his eyes closed as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. 

Doc dipped down, squatting before him as he took Bobo’s chin in his hand, raising his gaze. 

“I don’t care what those psychos and killers out there think you are, Robert, you and I both know the needy little boy you are. But you were so good,” he cooed, leaning in and kissing his brow tenderly. “Next time we’ll see about bending you over that table and fucking that ass until you actually come for me,” he growled, smirking as he pushed to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important places to be.”

He strode out without a look back. Others watched Doc as he strode through the camp as if he owned the place. Slowly they came together, gathering in the middle of the clearing, watching Holliday go, whispering softly among themselves.

Until there was a roar. Loud and cold and echoing from the trailer Holliday had just exited. The revenants turned slowly. When a mug came shooting out one of the windows, glass shattered in a spray around the trailer, they darted away, running for their own quarters and out of sight of Bobo as quickly as they could. It was going to be a long night, and if the sound of that pain was true, someone was going to pay and every revenant in hearing range was damned determined it wouldn’t be them.


End file.
